


Nervous, Yet?

by dysonrules



Series: Nervous Trilogy [1]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-15
Updated: 2010-09-15
Packaged: 2017-10-11 21:02:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dysonrules/pseuds/dysonrules
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is captured and tortured by Death Eaters, but nothing can break him... until it's Draco's turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nervous, Yet?

**Author's Note:**

> Edited to hell and gone May, 2014

"Nervous, Potter?"

"No." The tone was flat and Potter's green eyes glared the same hatred Draco had seen for the past seven years.

"You should be," he snapped. It annoyed him that Potter told the truth. Draco could tell. If the positions were reversed, Draco would have been nervous. Hell, he would have been bloody terrified.

Harry Potter was currently chained to a huge pillar in a cavernous room beneath an abandoned castle in Scotland—Death Eater headquarters. Both arms were spread wide and stretched over his head. Iron manacles gripped his wrists, attached to the chains fastened to the pillar. His feet were spread also, heels pressed hard against the base of the pillar, and iron held his ankles.

He was completely nude. It amused the Death Eaters to keep Harry Potter in such a state of helpless vulnerability. Especially Fenrir Greyback, though he had been forbidden to go anywhere near Potter. For now.

Draco went on. "My father sent me down here to have a go at you."

"Knock yourself out," Potter said in a bored tone. Draco was reluctantly impressed that Potter's Gryffindor bravado had not deserted him. Assorted Death Eaters had tortured Harry throughout the night. To no purpose, of course. One dose of Veritaserum and Potter had spilled his limited knowledge of Order of the Phoenix activities and everything else he knew. The others had simply felt like softening Potter up for the arrival of the Dark Lord later that day.

"Very well," Draco said. "How about a Cruciatus?" He leveled a burst at Potter, whose body instantly jerked against the chain. Potter rose onto the tips of his toes and his back arched as agony consumed him. He did not scream, but clenched his jaw and threw his head back so hard it slammed against the pillar. His eyes were tightly shut.

Draco found the sight strangely captivating. He released the spell and Potter slumped in the chains, suspended by his arms. Even then, he only sagged for a moment and then carefully got his feet beneath him and stood once more.

He glared at Draco. Potter's glasses were gone, so Draco wasn't sure how clearly Potter could see, but his venomous gaze met Draco's intently. Draco realized that the Cruciatus Curse would never work on Potter. They could _Crucio_ him until he went mad, but he would never break.

Draco walked forwards until he stood directly in front of Potter, close enough to feel his breath on his face. Draco pressed the tip of his wand against the famous scar on Potter's forehead.

"Nervous yet, Potter?"

"No." His emerald eyes flashed.

Draco traced the scar with his wand and continued the motion across Potter's forehead. The ink-black hair slipped over his wand in a dark cascade. Draco followed the hairline to Potter's temple and then down over his chiseled cheek to touch briefly on Potter's earlobe. He paused there and his eyes met Potter's; the green orbs were fathomless.

Draco continued a slow path down the slim line of Potter's neck to the hollow of his throat. He paused again and then tugged the wand over Potter's collarbone to the deep groove on his shoulder caused by Potter's upraised arms.

He dragged the wand gently back over the collarbone to the center of Potter's chest and then downward, over the breastbone, and then traced the trail of dark hair to Potter's navel. The wand tip circled Potter's navel indentation and swept lower, to touch the curls on Potter's groin.

"Nervous yet, Potter?" Draco asked again, taunting.

"No," he replied, but there was an odd look in his eyes. Draco smirked. He might be a Death Eater now, but he had learned a thing or two from his father about subtlety.

He flicked the wand away from Potter's skin and transferred it to his left hand. With his right, he touched an index finger to Potter's scar. Slowly, he followed the same path as the wand, trailing it slowly over Potter's forehead to his temple. His soft hair wafted over Draco's hand and he found his gaze locked on Potter's before he looked away, unable to maintain contact with the intense green, no matter that he was in the position of power. It was annoying.

Determined, Draco splayed his fingers and caressed Potter's cheekbone. He sensed Potter's desire to jerk away from his touch, but obviously his Gryffindor pride would not allow it. Draco's fingers brushed Potter's earlobe and slid delicately down his neck to rest in the hollow of his throat. Draco paused there until he felt a pulse—not quite as slow and steady as Potter would have liked, no doubt.

Draco ran his fingers across the collarbone and back to the center of Potter's chest. He allowed a grin to curve his lips as he trailed his touch lightly downward, following the delicate line of soft hair until it met the thicker hair below. Draco dipped his hand into Potter's pubic curls for a moment and stilled his hand.

"Nervous yet, Potter?" he asked huskily.

"No," Potter replied, but his voice sounded ragged and Draco saw a muscle in his jaw twitch.

Draco leaned forward and rose slightly on his toes to touch his tongue to Potter's scar. He felt Potter's breath against his throat and nearly shivered—God, but he was getting turned on. For a mere instant he thought of Potter in bed, panting that hot breath against his neck… Draco dragged his mind back to the present before Potter got the bright idea to bite him instead of standing there in frozen shock.

Draco slid his tongue over Potter's forehead, following his earlier path of wand and hand. Potter's soft hair flitted over Draco's face in a gossamer caress. He shut his eyes and breathed in the scent of whatever shampoo Potter preferred.

He pressed a kiss to Potter's temple and Potter's breathing—definitely uneven now—hitched slightly. Draco moved his lips over the shapely cheekbone to Potter's earlobe. He took it into his mouth and nibbled it, and then exhaled gently into Potter's ear.

Potter's head tipped back again, giving Draco access to the beautiful line of his neck. His tongue glided downward and traced a path to the tantalizing hollow of Potter's throat.

Potter nearly panted now and the puffs of air ruffled Draco's hair as he licked the edge of Potter's collarbone. Damn it all, but he tasted good. Draco followed the thin bone to Potter's shoulder and dragged his teeth over the muscle there before sliding his mouth back across Potter's collarbone.

Draco heard the chains clink in what had to be an anxious twitch. Potter had to know what was coming next. Draco smirked and started downwards, nuzzling the fine dusting of hair on Potter's chest. He licked his way to Potter's navel, where he paused to dip his tongue into the indentation.

Potter made a choking sound and Draco glanced up to see Harry's head thrown back again—fuck, that was an erotic sight. For a moment, Draco nearly stood and kissed Potter on the lips… but first things first.

He left Potter's navel and slid his tongue downward into the black curls until his lips grazed the base of Potter's cock, which was standing at attention. Draco had to close his eyes for a moment to steady his own breathing.

He got shakily to his feet and looked into Potter's half-lidded eyes. Draco pressed himself hard against Potter's body and thrust slightly with his hips so that Potter could feel his own arousal.

"Nervous yet, Potter?" he asked hoarsely.

Draco's triumph was a single, barely audible word.

"Yes."


End file.
